Page 14 of Velvet Sin (Elite Men of Los Angeles #5)

ELEANOR

H e was tearing me in half. The half that wanted him to eat shit for doing this to me again—putting me in a position I didn’t want to be in, the prick—and the half now screaming with joy because, yes, this was what I needed.

I needed it badly enough that all I could do when he thrust his tongue into my mouth was moan helplessly, begging for more without words.

His hands, God, they were everywhere, groping and caressing, waking up parts of me that had been dark and cold for so long. How could I have forgotten what this was like? Being wanted this way, succumbing to passion, wanting someone more than I wanted life.

I’d lost it somewhere along the way.

And he had found it.

He had found me.

And now, he swept an arm over his desk, sending papers flying along with the empty glass that shattered on the floor the way my resolve shattered when Dante set me down on the desk’s short end and wedged a hand between my legs.

My gasp was lost in his mouth, mixing with his throaty groans. He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t wait and see. He took what he wanted, working his fingers under the crotch of my panties and teasing them over my shaved slit.

This had to stop.

We couldn’t do this.

That was what I told myself as my hands gripped his lapel so I could pull him in closer.

My body and brain were locked in battle with how Dante’s mouth locked with mine, our teeth clashing while our tongues tangled.

I could have screamed and wept with relief.

Finally, I could be as wild as I needed to be. I could let go.

“So fucking wet,” he growled out against my throat, raining sweet fire on me with every kiss and sweep of his tongue. His teeth grazed my skin, and I cried out, almost embarrassed at the intensity of my reaction.

All he did was rub me faster, dipping between my swollen lips to find the source of the heat that was burning me up inside.

I gasped sharply, going stiff while my brain went blank all at once because fuck, it felt so good.

Incredible. I couldn’t process the feelings, the sensations, the heat.

How could I have forgotten all of this? How the hell did I convince myself I was ever satisfied?

He captured my mouth again, teasing moan after moan from me while he circled my clit, driving me wild, making my hips jerk and my juices flow. “This is what you need,” he told me in a growl before sucking my bottom lip until I whined.

He was right. I didn’t know how much I needed it until now when he took me to the edge here on his desk while people danced, drank, and fucked beneath us.

I needed to let go.

My head fell back, eyes closing, as familiar tension started to grow. I was going to come, and it was going to be huge.

“That’s right,” he breathed out against my flushed face when it started. “Come for me. Give it to me. Soak my fingers so I can lick them clean.”

His filthy words and the filthy images they brought to life sent me screaming over the edge, clawing at him, writhing as the tension broke. My hips bucked, yet his fingers still moved, dragging out the exquisite pleasure. “Yes!” I gasped, savoring every last second before going limp, weak.

That didn’t last long because instead of backing away, Dante took the back of my head in one hand, tilting it until we were face to face.

“Watch,” he commanded in a deep grunt, making me open my eyes in time to watch him drag his tongue over his glistening fingers.

His eyes closed as he sucked my juices from his skin, a deep groan stirring in his throat.

The sight stole the breath from my lungs and made me shudder. He wasn’t only doing it to get me off. He was doing it for himself because he liked it. Because he liked the taste of me that much.

“One taste is not enough.” He pushed the hem of my dress up my thighs. I was almost too stunned to react, but instinct made me push myself up on my palms, lifting my ass off the desk long enough for my dress to get shoved up around my waist and my G-string yanked down.

Leaning back on my elbows, I watched him sink to his knees and prop my black patent heels on his shoulders.

Our eyes met, sending a sizzle of pure electricity racing through my body.

Something clicked into place—the past meeting the present, maybe.

I tensed in preparation, knowing he would make it all worthwhile. I needed to believe that.

Then his face disappeared, buried between my legs, and I was lost all over again.

He ate me like he was starving, like he wanted to literally devour me, grunting, breathing hard, his hands sinking into my hips so he could pull me closer to the edge of the desk while his tongue did unspeakable things to me—teasing my entrance, delivering long laps against my clit before quick, tight flicks with the tip of his tongue.

They made me grab the back of his head and pull him in, grinding his face, letting go of everything I was holding inside for so long—all my wants, all of the pent-up longing.

I didn’t have to be quiet. I didn’t have to pretend to like this.

I thought I had a decent sex life. Now I knew better, remembering how good it could be. How explosive.

What made it all so much more intense was the action going on behind him on the screens—everything happening downstairs on the dance floor and in the group playroom.

I watched a woman being pleasured while strapped into a sex swing, sucking one dick and stroking another two while a fourth partner pounded her mercilessly.

Two women were stretched out across a velvet sofa, eating each other out the way Dante was eating me, while men watched and stroked themselves.

A naked, blindfolded man was flogged while strapped to the Saint Andrew’s cross, the leather straps striking his erect dick until his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Just like that,” I begged, watching Dante watching them, and overcome by sensation. “Oh my God, I’m co?—”

He responded with a growl, cutting me off and sending vibrations running through my pussy. It was all too much. I couldn’t take it anymore.

My hoarse cries filled the room, mixing with the pounding of blood in my ears and Dante’s growls. He lifted his head, dark eyes blazing and nearly black now. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he stood and opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a foil packet.

But before he unrolled it over the bulge straining against his zipper, he pulled me upright and unzipped my dress in one quick motion, peeling it away from my chest and taking my boobs in his hands.

My back arched, pressing more of me into his palms, and he lowered his head to suck greedily at my nipples.

“Yes, just like that,” I whispered, running my hands through his hair.

Then I slid them down, pulling off his suit jacket.

He was wearing too much. I wasn’t satisfied, so I pulled his shirt from his waistband and worked my hands under it to touch his skin—so warm, smooth, the muscles working underneath, bunching and flexing with every move and harsh breath.

When I scraped my nails over his back, he growled in response, teasing my sensitive flesh with his teeth before standing straight.

I watched, transfixed by the sight of him freeing his rigid cock from his slacks and boxer briefs. Fresh, aching need pooled in my belly, making me spread my legs wider, inviting him to take me.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he breathed out, staring down at me while unrolling the condom down his length. “Do you think it’s ready for me? Do you think it can take all this?” He held his thick cock in one hand and dragged the swollen head through my folds.

“Yes,” I said with a moan, propping myself on my elbows, feeling my heart in my throat as he lined himself up, slowly disappearing inside me.

“Oh fuck!” I cried out, my eyes closing, my pussy stretching to fit him.

I forgot what this felt like, being stretched, filled, balancing on the thin line between pleasure and pain until there was nothing but pleasure.

The pleasure of being taken to my limit and beyond, every inch of him massaging me from the inside, unleashing something in me I thought was dead and gone.

The sort of screaming, greedy hunger that made me wrap my legs around his hips to pull him in deeper, harder, faster.

“This is what you need,” he told me, his teeth gritted, grunting each time our bodies slammed together. “Somebody who knows how to fuck you. Say it.”

When I didn’t say anything, he pulled out, and I whimpered.

“Say it,” he repeated.

“Yes! Yes, fuck me,” I begged, making him laugh before he slammed back inside me hard, fast, reminding me how it felt to be really, truly fucked. I’d forgotten how good it could be. How freeing.

“That’s right.” Every word from Dante’s lips made me jerk my hips harder. “Do you want to hate me? Fucking hate me. Give it to me now. Give it all to me, Lenny.”

He didn’t even care that I hated being called that, being reminded of how things used to be. The thought made me drag my nails down his back until he sucked in a pained breath, then pumped harder like he wanted to split me in two.

And I wanted that.

God, I needed it.

“Make me come,” I begged, looking him in the eye and almost coming from what I saw there.

He was wild, untamed, exactly the Dante I used to know.

He hadn’t changed. He had only put on a mask like the ones his employees wore.

This was the Dante I knew, the one who used me for his pleasure.

The only difference was that I also felt pleasure.

So much that I almost wanted to stop. This was so far beyond what I was used to.

And maybe that was why I couldn’t, why I linked my ankles behind his ass and pulled him in, demanding more, chasing my orgasm while his sharp breaths turned to deep grunts that tickled my skin and reverberated in my ear when he leaned down, palms on the desk.